


Leather and Cigars

by bloodandcream



Series: Collared [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Collared Castiel, D/s, Face-Fucking, JUST, Leather Culture, M/M, Sex Toys, Spanking, leather boy Castiel, leather daddy Cain, no daddy kink though, side relationship DeanxBenny, tattooed biker Cain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 00:30:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3708575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel loved the relaxed ease of sitting by Cain’s feet during these meetings. Not really playing, just being there. Surrounded by the smoke and busy chatter, wrapped up around Cain. It was relaxing. No expectations, no schedule. Stress and work and life all faded to indistinguishable blurs in the background. He didn’t feel the weight of his responsibilities. He didn’t have responsibilities. With his collar on, at Cain’s feet, he abdicated control utterly to the man. Cain would mind any responsibilities, make decisions, give Castiel just what he needed without having to ask and explain and justify his reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leather and Cigars

Castiel sighed and rubbed his cheek against the soft warm denim with a small nudge of his head. A hand settled against the back of his neck, fingers curling lightly and scratching under the edge of his collar. He blinked sleepily, relaxed, draping an arm over that thigh. His knees were a little sore from the hard concrete floor under the thin carpet, shifting and settling more on his ass as he kept his head in Cain’s lap.

The smoke in the room was thick, rising gray to the ceiling and swirling around everyone. He was getting used to the heavy smell, the sting in the back of his throat, how dry it made his eyes. He was starting to enjoy it. Blinking, propping his chin on Cain’s thigh, he looked around. The small room in the back of the bar was unimpressive, cheap wood pattern paneling on three walls, one cinder block wall with a single window open to let in the fresh air. There was a ratty old mustard yellow couch, a few arm chairs, end tables all arranged in a casual circle. Cain sat in his usual chair, something that used to be green but was more gray by now.

Across from them, Castiel watched Dean still and draped over Benny’s lap. He was probably napping. Castiel still didn’t know everyone, there were unfamiliar faces in the hazy smoke. The shock of red hair belonged to the only woman in the club. Abaddon. She had elbowed her way inside with sheer determination and attitude. Although, Castiel had seen how vicious she could be in a bar brawl, and she could drink all of the men under the table. All but one.

Luke was a quiet leader. Understated. Often underestimated. There was a magnetic sort of draw to him, Castiel couldn’t even keep track of the boys Luke kept as they were always coming and going. There was something cruel under his easy smile.

Dean shifted, arms folding in Benny’s lap and hands cupping to catch the ash tipped off his cigar. Castiel would never have guessed that the charismatic head of the marketing department could be so submissive. Of course, most people probably thought that about Castiel as well.

When Castiel had been promoted to manager in the accounting department at Sandover, his first big project had seen him working closely with the marketing department. Dean was a very dedicated employee, he staid late night after night, walked Castiel through negotiating pricing for new clients. Castiel didn’t want to think that he was the sort of person to pursue an affair with a co-worker, it was unprofessional.

But he hardly ever saw anyone outside of the office. He’d been dry since his last relationship ended over a year ago. And Dean was, well he was Dean. Bold, confident, loyal. Gorgeous. Castiel still thinks it was inevitable that he ended up flirting with Dean. Who was in a relationship. With another man, a dom, a Daddy.

Dean had asked if Castiel had ever thought about having that kind of relationship. If he’d ever been to a leather club.

Glass tapped against his knuckles.

Castiel shifted and blinked. A cigar was pinched between two fingers in the hand that rested on Cain’s thigh opposite him, smoke rising up in a lazy twisting trail. Cain’s other hand held an empty beer bottle. Castiel rolled his shoulder and stood, the plug inside him tugging at his rim. At least he was wearing baggy jeans, cock half swollen with the low level tease.

Taking the empty bottle, Castiel looked around the gathered circle. Most ignored him. Benny caught his eye, tipped back what was left in his bottle and held it out. Castiel collected it on the way to the front of the bar.

The place was closed for the private meeting tonight. Castiel helped himself to two beers from the mini fridge and padded quietly back. Benny gave him a murmured, “Thanks, cher” as he passed a cold beer over. Cain rested his cigar in the ash tray on the small table next to him to take the beer from Castiel. As he settled back down, head in Cain’s lap, fingers pushed through his hair. Blunt nails scraping lightly against his scalp, calloused fingers tracing the shell of his ear. Castiel nudged his head a little higher on Cain’s thigh.

He mostly ignored the conversation around them. It didn’t particularly interest Castiel. They talked about club events, bike rallies, charity drives, plans for the summer. They were their own small, self contained world. It fascinated Castiel, the understanding between the people in this community. The silent non-verbal communication. The camaraderie of the group mind.

If you went to the right place, you didn’t need to talk to someone to find exactly what you wanted. Dean explained it to him at first. The patches on their vests like status symbols and markers of their place in the hierarchy. The different colored handkerchiefs they tucked in back pockets. Left or right pocket. Blue, green, black. Know what you’re getting yourself in to.

Castiel had indulged before all this in what he used to consider scandalous pornographic films. He knew he had an interest. An itch. Curiosity. He liked to watch. So he followed Dean along, and Benny. It wasn’t until he’d observed Dean in assless chaps bent over a pool table being paddled cherry red that he’d decided he wanted to try it himself. Being there in the room, listening to the crack of wood on skin, Dean’s breathy little grunts and pleas, Benny’s rough drawl praising him. Castiel wanted that too.

Cain was a stern man. All his edges were hard and sharp and unmovable. But there was softness in him, a kindness in his own sort of way. He was a careful man. Rough when he needed to be, brutal even, but his hands could be light on Castiel’s raw skin afterward, his words a lull.

Shifting, hooking his chin over Cain’s thigh and pressing his backside down against his heels to draw his jeans tight, Castiel wiggled just a little to stimulate the small plug inside him. Just a place keeper, to relax his muscles. It maintained a low thrum of arousal that was warm and heavy in his belly while Cain petted him.

Castiel loved the relaxed ease of sitting by Cain’s feet during these meetings. Not really playing, just being there. Surrounded by the smoke and busy chatter, wrapped up around Cain. It was relaxing. No expectations, no schedule. Stress and work and life all faded to indistinguishable blurs in the background. He didn’t feel the weight of his responsibilities. He didn’t have responsibilities. With his collar on, at Cain’s feet, he abdicated control utterly to the man. Cain would mind any responsibilities, make decisions, give Castiel just what he needed without having to ask and explain and justify his reasons.

There was a tugging in his hair. Castiel lifted his head up. The stub of Cain’s cigar sat in the ash tray, the beer next to it empty. Cain was looking down at him, the faintest smile in the corner of his lips, gray streaked hair falling loose around his face.

“Are you getting restless?”

“No.”

“Enjoying the toy I put in you?”

“Yes.”

“You’re distracting.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m ready to leave. You give me a good reason to.”

Castiel nodded, rising to his feet as Cain stood. Bright colorfully tattooed arms crossed over his broad chest as he walked the perimeter of the circle and said his goodbyes. Castiel picked up the beer bottle to take back to the bar. He nodded goodbye to Dean and Benny. Dean smiled goodbye to him, hands still cupped with ash in them, cradled next to his chest as Benny stood to thump Cain on the back and say goodbye.

In the bar, quiet but for the clank of the bottle in the recycle bin, Cain held out Castiel’s canvas jacket that had been folded over a booth. Cain shrugged in to his own leather jacket.

“Are you hungry? We could go to that burger joint that’s still open.”

Castiel shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I ate before I came.”

“Do you want to take a ride then?”

“Where to?”

“The country.”

Castiel felt a pulse in his arousal, quickening with anticipation.

“Yes, that sounds good.”

Cain ran a hand through his hair, thick curls falling back down neatly as he smoothed the collar of his jacket. They stepped out into the night air, warm and muggy with the start of summer. Castiel put on the helmet offered him, waiting for Cain to get on the bike first before slinging a leg over to settle behind him.

His throat tickled with breathing fresh air. Burying it against Cain’s neck as he wrapped his arms around him, Castiel breathed in the smell of leather and cigars that clung to him. It would permeate Castiel’s hair too, his clothes, stick to his skin. He’d take it back to his apartment and trail it throughout. The strong sharp smell had sunk into his pores, into his life. Castiel liked it. He liked that reminder of Cain’s presence. A smell that had never had any other associations for Castiel was now purely Cain.

The bike started up loud and roaring as Cain bumped up the kick stand. Castiel wasn’t fond of the ringing in his ears that persevered for an hour after riding with Cain. He was, however, inordinately fond of the strong shock of vibrations up his body.

Holding on to Cain and swaying with the motion of the bike around a corner, Castiel slid a palm up underneath Cain’s shirt as they rode. His stomach was soft, his arms and legs thick with muscle. A hard labor man. Castiel could feel his soft laugh as his belly moved underneath splayed fingers. He was ticklish.

As paved roads gave way to rolling pitted country roads, the motorcycle jostled him. Castiel was fully hard and pressed up to the warmth of Cain’s back. He could come from the stimulation making the toy inside him thrum. He had before. But he knew better know, and could control himself.

Rolling through farm land fields under the half full moon, the wind whipped Cain’s hair back as Castiel nuzzled in to it, only disinterestedly paying mind to the scenery around them. The wind pushed through his coat, bubbling it out, chill on his skin and it was relief for the sudden heat that had come on during the days.

Cain turned again, from the state high way down a rutted dirt road. Slowing the bike, rocking on it’s shocks, the loud thump of the tire passing over a wood bridge that crossed a creek, they pulled up behind a copse of trees and stopped. There were fields of corn to one side waving gently in the faint breeze, the dirt road continuing up into woods along the other side. Castiel could hear the creek behind them, water running over rock. There were insects chirruping and the rustle of nocturnal animals in the brush.

They both had privacy in their apartments, yet they still rode out into the country to fuck behind a stand of trees or hidden under tall grasses. The air was sweet and life thrummed around them. Castiel loved the riding itself too, on the back of Cain’s bike.

Swinging his leg over the bike, wobbling slightly with light headed arousal that had escalated to breath shortening panting, Castiel removed his helmet and passed it to Cain, who was shaking out his hair. Cain put down the kickstand and stood. He took off his jacket, and his vest, leather crinkling. Slinging them over his bike, he turned to Castiel.

“Strip.”

Jacket off, folded, set on the seat. Shirt off, folded, set on the jacket. Balancing on one foot at a time the task of removing his jeans while leaving his boots on was slightly more laborious. But he had learned his lesson. The boots should stay on. Jeans folded, set on the shirt. Down to collar and boots, Castiel stood naked in the moonlight, hands loose at his side. Cock erect and flushed, tapping up against his stomach with the increasing pulse of arousal that twitched down it’s length.

Cain’s belt clinked as he opened his pants in the front. He had stripped off some layers but was still clothed in a faded black tee and work stained jeans.

“Kneel.”

Dropping to his knees, dirt and pebbles and twigs scraped against his shins. Knees spread, ass to heels, palms on top of his thighs, spine straight, mouth open, tongue out against the bottom of his lip.

Cain’s simple commands sent a warm curl into his belly. It was easy to obey. Castiel appreciated knowing exactly where he stood and what was expected of him as well as what he could expect in return. There was no guessing. There were no games that were not explained before hand.

It used to concern him how eager he was to please others. But so much of his life had been spent trying to please people who would never be satisfied. His parents, his employers, disinterested lovers. He’d been made to feel like a failure by so many, that the freely given genuine praise for the simplest of things from Cain made him blush and stutter like an adolescent for the flutter of pleasure in his chest.

He could please Cain. And Cain rewarded him for it. It was simple. He was good at following orders.

“Good boy.”

His muscles clenched reflexively around the plug, wanting more. Remembering. Anticipating.

Cain had his soft cock in his hand as he stepped closer, working it to hardness. He was still clothed. And would remain so. It was an imbalance. A statement of power, of control. He dictated the situation and Castiel listened. Took what was given obediently. The head of Cain’s erection rested on his tongue, held still there, fingers pushing through his short hair. Castiel looked up at him, lapped out at the underside and flicked across the tip. Cain pushed in.

Closing his lips around it, pulling his cheeks in, Castiel massaged his tongue along the length as Cain gave short shallow thrusts. He remained placid, letting Cain set the pace. Fuck into his mouth. Long drag out and slide, hold, push. Bumping up against the back of Castiel’s throat, shifting, angling his head.

Castiel had known men that made him feel less, made him feel degraded on his knees. Sometimes, in self deprecatory masochism, he sought it out. Cain, with a sure touch and wide eyes, made Castiel feel something else. The tight collar around his neck pulled as Castiel’s throat worked to take Cain deeper. Cain holding his head and murmuring praise. He felt cherished.

Both hands curving around his head, cradling the back of his skull. Cain’s hips working rhythmic and steady. Deep, deep, draw back - breath through the nose. Castiel whimpered, cock aching and twitching against his thigh. Spit down his chin, loud wet sounds of Cain using his mouth, owning it.

Castiel whimpered again. Cain pulled out, string of spit from mouth to cock as Castiel gasped open mouthed. Blinking. Fingers curling against his thighs aching to reach out, to touch. Yet he remained obedient. Still.

“Such a good boy.”

Cain slid a hand around his head down his jaw, thumb lingering over his lip. Fingers traced down, caught the edge of his collar and tugged. Castiel rose with the motion, swaying to lean in to Cain’s space.

“Brace yourself against a tree.”

He trotted over to the copse of trees. Picking the widest to brace his hands against, Castiel took position. Bent forward, back sloped down, ass up. Legs apart, feet wider than shoulder’s width. Head hanging between his stretched out arms, Castiel watched an ant crawling over the gnarled tree roots that tangled down into the dusty earth. The sway of the tree’s heavy limbs rustled in a gust of wind.

Fingertips ghosted over his skin lightly. Down his back, around his hips. Pinprick goosebumps bubbled up, a shudder down his spine as he canted his hips back. Cain pressed against the plug, fingers brushing against him as it was twisted and tugged. Toy hitting the earth with a thump next to them, Castiel’s muscles fluttered.

Hard blunt pressure. The harsh noise of Cain spitting, adding more where it was already lubed. Push. Castiel gasped, arms locked straight, legs tensing. So much. All the way until their bodies were flushed. Muscles stinging with the sudden stretch, a sharp throbbing ache. Thick and long, so much more than the toy. Barely ready. On the cusp. The low thrum of arousal that had prickled under his skin all night long, the escalating build on the ride out here, suddenly burst to the cusp with the overwhelming intensity as Cain fucked in to him.

Toes scrunching inside his boots, short nails scrabbling against rough tree bark. Castiel grit his teeth and arched his back, shoulder blades pushing out and spine curving. Cain started fast and moved faster. Brutal and feral and it hurt with that edge of desperation Castiel craved.

“Oh god please, please…”

Fingers curled under his collar, pulling. Air cutting off. Breath rasping out.

“What’s that boy?”

“Please - let - let me…”

A sharp smack to his exposed back side, skin blooming hot as another fell, and another. Hips working, cock buried deep and bump, bumped.

“Use your big boy words now.”

“Let me… ah, let me touch myself, please.”

Choking on the pulsing acute need of it, Castiel struggled to breathe. Collar pulled hard against his neck. Cain pulling him back to the snap of his hips.

“Of course you can touch yourself. But you know better than to come before I say. Don’t you boy?”

“Yes - ah! Yes, th - th - thank you…”

Jostled, holding himself up with both hands, Cain still as he removed one from the tree. Skin scratched raw, wrapping around his cock dry, hard friction so good. Cain’s broad hands gripping on to his hips, anchoring down under his skin, deep hurt to the muscle. Cain would hold him. Keep him up. Guide him back to the roll and slide of their bodies together. Shuddering, straddling the edge and holding on, waiting, working his cock in time to Cain’s deep thrusts.

The dull thud of bodies colliding, panting and grunting, rippled out to merge with the incessant hum of night around them. Castiel whined low and needy and desperate, a sound foreign to his own ears. Cain was breathless grunts and the clink of his buckle. Jeans rough against Castiel’s bare skin. Zipper dragging against his ass. Sensations flooding him and he went limp as Cain held onto him.

“Go on boy. Come for me.”

Screaming as it was wrenched from him, hand pulling hard on his cock as Cain fucked into him mercilessly, Castiel tensed and clawed at the tree as he came. Gasping for breath, throat raw and hoarse, body quivering, he held up best he could under Cain’s ministrations.

It wasn’t long after that Cain had both his hands back on Castiel’s hips, grinding against him. Nudging insistently at that sweet spot that had him leaking and whimpering with after shocks. Cock hard and Castiel could feel the twitch of a pulse in it. Seeping wet. Hands loosening on his hips, pulling him up. Arms wrapped around his waist, palm splayed against his chest. Beard tickling his shoulder.

The insects kept up their chirruping. Cain kissed across the slope of his shoulder, behind his ear. Castiel turned into the contact, catching his lips. Brief. Barely there before Cain was pulling back again. Castiel turned and slumped back against the tree, rough on his bare skin.

Cain stepped back over to his motorcycle. Drew a cigarette pack out of his jacket and lit up. The bright red cherry glowing, illuminating the contours of his face on a deep inhale. Castiel caught his breath against the tree, come trickling sticky down the insides of his thighs.

Wobbling over to Cain, the cigarette was offered to him. Castiel took it, puffing a few times while his sweat slicked skin dried in the cool air. He passed the cigarette back, and picked up his clothes to dress again. He’d clean back at home.

Cain finished the cigarette and stomped out the stub in the dirt. He slid back into his vest and jacket.

“Would you like to come home with me tonight darling?”

Castiel sighed. He would, he very much would love to spend the night wrapped in Cain’s arms basking in his warmth. But. “I have to work tomorrow.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“We’ve been very busy with a new client that’s proving high maintenance. More so that their business is worth, in my opinion, but still.”

“All right. I’ll take you back to your place.”

Castiel could hear the disappointment in Cain’s tone, and it made a little something clench behind his ribs. Cain stood and reached for him, arms circling his shoulders and fingers tugging at his collar. Castiel shrugged him off.

“Let me leave it on, for the ride.”

Cain smiled at him, fingers stroking his jaw as they retreated. “We’ll take the long way.”


End file.
